Windows without screens made this an especially open view.

Third Story Window, 932 Greenwich Street

Holding myself from the high-up cold

Above San Francisco’s trill pre-day

The night-time spider’s slow threads hold

Some death of life in high-up prey

Cats roam in cloaks with beaded mist

While birds of sea hold down their wings

The caption of the Bay reads Calm

Below sea lion bellowings

Alcatraz’s blink showed down the hall tonight

Afraid, as night lifts gone the choice is

Though rare to see across so far it seems so right

To watch a city rise drunk into its noises